


our lips are like glue (i think i love you)

by bleuboxes



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Romance, WHOOP AU, kind of but not really, literally im so love deprived rn this is pure SAP, no canon in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuboxes/pseuds/bleuboxes
Summary: Clara looks Sirius deep in the eyes, “I’m a very busy woman. Can’t expect me to remember everything about everywhere I go.”“No,” he says, his gaze unwavering, “I can’t”Then she’s kissing him.She doesn’t want to talk about it.





	our lips are like glue (i think i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me father, for it has been a WHile since i've last written and posted anything. 
> 
> Anyway,,, happy christmas. this is garbage but if i dont post something im gonna scream so. yeah.   
> 1st semester of college went swimmingly. we're out here. thriving. 
> 
> this is toothrotting delicious trash so i hope u like it.   
> also this tag is dead so those of u reading??? ur goats wish u the best. 
> 
> title is from a song called glue by fickle friends

The thing about coming home for the holidays that really bothers Clara is a bit of a conundrum. While she’s away and, well, _you know_ , living her life (in god only knows where) she misses her family and the familiarity. Once she actually comes in to visit for Christmas, she comes to the biting realization of why she left home to begin with: these people are nosy and rude and judge her for every little thing.

Except her Nan.

Her Nan always dotes on her – asks how’s she’s doing, roasts her father and his girlfriend, sneaks her wine. Her Nan’s a riot – she’s got all these stories about how she and her good old friend Euphemia (who Nan still parties with) used to cause all sorts of trouble back in the day. Some of them seem highly unlikely (just because of the fantastical nature of them) but Clara’s seem some fantastical stuff in her day and feels genuinely that the shit her Nan tells her about is just too wild to make up.

But somehow, the family’s gotten wind that her and Danny are over and done with, and they had really been hoping that they’d be married by the end of the year. As it turns out, Danny and Clara are _not_ married; Her family is _not_ happy about it.

Clara doesn’t mind; she’s 27 years old and her lifestyle really doesn’t support a spouse or any type of significant other.

She can usually go to her Nan and complain about this type of stuff, but this year – Nan is being a little difficult.

It’s all _Euphemia’s sons_ _this_ and _Euphemia’s sons that_ and _oh! I think her sons are about your age! Isn’t that wonderful, Clara?_

And you know, maybe it is wonderful that Euphemia seems to be blessed with such kind and interesting children, but Clara isn’t really in the market for a beau right at the moment.

_For god’s sake,_ she just got back from saving the world, can’t she have the holiday to relax just a little bit?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The answer to that question is an obvious _no_.

Two days after Christmas, her Nan has a date with Euphemia in town and she’s making Clara drive her there. Clara has not driven a car in quite some time (but she refused to take her Nan on the back of her motorbike, and it’s not like she has the TARDIS on speed dial.) Her Nan kindly does not comment on her lack of skills when it comes to driving.

Her Nan does talk about her friends son’s again. Mentions something about how one of them is getting married sometime soon and how the other is a bit full of himself, but everyone that meets Clara loves her, so she shouldn’t worry.

Clara is not worried.

Clara loves her Nan but she’s really starting to wish she would stop meddling.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Unfortunately, both Clara and her Nan have the dreaded Oswald stubbornness, and when they get an idea in their heads, they refuse to waver on it.

So, here they are, Clara, her Nan, Euphemia, and Euphemia’s son.

Not James. The other one. Sirius. Like the star.

And like, he’s _not_ bad to look at – he’s really rather easy on the eyes. Shoulder length black tresses do their best to cover his face – handsome and aristocratic. He’s got boredom and a glint of something Clara can only describe as mischief in his grey eyes. He’s got a very light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. He’s got an angular face – not too angular though, and his lips are chapped and bitten like you wouldn’t believe.

He’s dressed kind of like a bum considering the fact that this is a pretty nice brunch place.

It bothers her.

What aggravates her more is that he won’t even bother to talk to her, and you know what - that’s fine. This is a strange situation, but Clara knows he doesn’t want to sit there in silence the whole time, and she can tell Euphemia is getting annoyed because she keeps glaring at Sirius when she isn’t talking to Clara or her Nan.

And he won’t stop fucking glaring at her.

Like it’s _her_ fault his mother and Clara’s Nan want to play match maker. She’s perfectly fine being single and teaching literature and/or traveling around space and time for the rest of her mortal life. She’s not the one that’s looking for a person right now (the tinder app on her phone begs to differ, but she’s not getting into that right now).

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

An hour passes.

Sirius joins in some conversation with her Nan and Euphemia. He continues to ignore Clara. That’s fine. Their conversations seem exclusive anyway – they keep mentioning that fancy school with the weird name her Nan went to back in the day. And like that’s fine and all, but Clara is here too, and she was not able to go to some fancy school in Scotland because her parents were _fucking_ _poor_ and it’s just really starting to get on her nerves.

She wishes she was back with the Doctor. He’s always good at poking fun at pretentious humans (even when she is related to one of them)

Her phone vibrates. The conversation breaks, as they all look in her direction. She grabs the phone out of her purse, her Nan reads the caller ID:

“You better take that.” She says with certainty.

It’s the Doctor.

“Pardon me,” Clara says as she stands up and heads to the ladies room. She can hear Sirius snort something snobbish and she knows Euphemia is scolding her son right now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Doctor needed help with some rouge robots at a factory in the 1870’s, and Clara’s out of her period-appropriate attire and back in the restaurant five minutes after she left despite it being a three day ordeal.

She fucking loves time-travel.

The thing is, the situation which she left is a little lost on her (a lot has happened within the last five minutes, okay?) and she’s not sure why she’s greeted with a strange sort of look when she comes back.

“Dear, your hair looks lovely,” fawns Euphemia, “how did you manage to do that so quickly.”

Oh, her hair is still in that intricate up-do.

“Oh, you know, practice.” She shrugs.

“And while you were on the phone,” Sirius smirks – she knows he can smell her bullshit from a mile away, “pretty impressive.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” she offers a saccharine smile. Sirius smiles right back. What a ponce.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bruch doesn’t last much longer than that. While Sirius is in the bathroom, Euphemia gives Clara his number – with the warning that he doesn’t use it all that much – which is strange considering he’s a twenty-something man. But it’s whatever. Clara doesn’t expect to really need it.

She drops her Nan off at her home, and with a hug and a kiss, Clara’s back on her way home. Family free for at least another few months. No more Euphemia, no more _Clara Marry her Sons!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Clara is not doing god-knows-what in god-knows-where, she teaches English literature in the Coal Hill School. Despite everything, she actually does enjoy it. It is made even more enjoyable every time the Doctor takes her to meet some of the authors of the books she teaches her students. So, when Coal Hill hires a new teacher (the “to take the place of Danny Pink” is implied) Clara’s a bit curious.

Her name is Lily Evans-Potter. She’s got the prettiest shade of red hair and the greenest eyes Clara’s ever seen. Frankly, if Lily Evans-Potter was not a married woman, Clara would be all over that.

But Lily Evans-Potter is married, and as it turns out, she’s married to Euphemia’s other son. The gangly one that Clara vaguely remembers because they were briefly childhood friends.

Somehow, Clara ends up befriending Lily. Lily comes over to Clara’s flat for dinner. They go to lunch. Clara shares stories of her travels in a muted sort of way, and she can tell Lily does the same thing about her past experiences. She’s funny – especially the way she talks about James.

There’s something about their enemies to friends to lovers story that makes Clara believe that love maybe isn’t dead. (She’d love to tell Jane Austen about them).

She almost wishes there was someone to talk about her the way that Lily talks about James - although Clara's always been one for romance, she knows that's not really her style.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Weeks pass. Lily invites Clara over for Easter. Clara accepts. When her Father calls and asks about her plans, she’s able to say (with a smirk) that she’s been invited to dinner with Euphemia’s son. She knows her father won’t be able to keep his mouth shut. She knows her Nan will find out.

She doesn’t need to know it’s the one that’s already married.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She has the Doctor drop her off outside Lily’s house because she’s running late, and she has the power to abuse the time vortex in her favor, so she does. Lily’s house is not a house, it’s a small cottage on the outskirts of a small village not too far out of Blackpool. They’ve got cute little Easter eggs hanging in the bushes outside their front door, and a bunny on the porch. Clara walks forward, her cheap wine in hand.

Lily greets her at the door before Clara can even knock – all smiles and Clara’s pretty sure Lily watched the TARDIS disappear, but Clara can’t find it within herself to care.

“Hi!” Lily embraces her; Lily gives such good hugs, “It’s so good to see you!”

“Nice to see you too!” smiles Clara, “Thanks for having me.”

Lily lets her in the house. Clara very nearly trips over the cat. Lily laughs. She is led to the living room, in which James is lounging on the couch with his young son. They both perk up when Lily enters the room.

“Clara, this is my husband,” she motions to James. He winks, and Lily blushes. Clara can’t help but laugh.

“And who’s this little guy?” she asks. The little boy tries to hide behind his father, obviously shy.

“Oi, introduce yourself to mummy’s friend.” James whispers. The boy refuses, “This is Harry. He’s usually not this shy.”

“That’s alright,” Clara smiles, “Did the Easter Bunny come and leave a basket for you?”

And that’s all it takes for the young boy to talk Clara’s ear off. He’s animated and lively and absolutely precious. The child is the spitting image of James – so much so it’s uncanny,

She’s in the middle of talking to Harry about her favorite color (which just so happens to be the same shade of blue that the TARDIS is), when there’s a pop in the living room, and two men appear.

It’s some guy who Clara knows not of and – _oh_.

It’s Sirius.

Harry is suddenly no longer interested in her; the boy runs into Sirius’s arms, and Clara doesn’t think she ever could have imagined seeing Sirius smile.

It bothers her. How good he looks.

Sirius is caught up in his nephew, and it’s only when Harry mentions that he made a new friend that he looks her way.

He looks confused. Annoyed. And any and all other words that have the same meaning. Before he can say anything to her, the other man – the mousy looking one - introduces himself.

Remus Lupin. He is nice. He is bookish and friendly and laughs at Clara’s jokes about the space time continuum. He tells her not to mind Sirius – he’s an asshole, but he’s got a good heart. Clara laughs – and continues to inform her new friend that she’s had the absolute displeasure of making Sirius’s acquaintance before – it’s at this point where James and his wife gather interest in the conversation, and Clara has James in tears while she dramatically retells how his mother and her Nan attempted to set them up.

Somewhere along the line, Sirius joins in – mentions how she somehow was able to put her hair into an intricate up do in five minutes.

“ _Please_ , that phone call lasted three days.” Lily hands her a shot of something. Clara drinks it – Lily gawks for some reason. You’d think Lily’s never seen her drink before, “And you’re one to talk – I saw you and Remus appear out of thin air today, mister.”

Its rather quiet for a minute.

“Granted, that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen – plus I’m pretty sure Lily saw me get dropped off in a police box so, like, we’re even.”

“Yeah, wait what was with the Police Box?” asks Lily, “if you don’t mind saying.”

“I do not mind saying in the Slightest,” Clara smiles, “but I think we should eat first, it’s kind of a long story.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The food is delicious. The fact that Harry choses to sit next to her instead of Sirius makes it even better. Lily doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that she’s like, a fucking wizard when the food comes zooming in. Clara’s thrilled but does a good job in hiding it.

Again. It’s not the strangest thing she’s ever seen.

This is nice. More fun than being with her family. And there’s something about being with a child on a holiday that always makes it more magical.

After they eat, they migrate back to the living room, Clara’s forced to tell of how she’s friends with a time traveler, how there’s like a version of her in every era of history everywhere, and how she’s kid of a big deal off world.

And of course, she can’t leave out how she and Jane Austen had a little fling.

So yeah.

She Clara Oswald. She’s a time traveler and her best friend is a wizard.

And Lily’s friends are wizards. Who went to the same school that her Nan went to.

_Wait a minute_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Somehow during the night, she gets to talking about her Nan and Euphemia – James is animatedly chatting her ear off about how his mother prides herself on her matchmaking skills, and if both of those women have their mind set on Clara then she’s screwed.

Which is great.

_Wonderful_.

Although, she will give them credit, because the more time she spends in Sirius’ company the less of an asshole he’s becoming.

Well, he’s still an asshole, but he’s funny. Self-depreciating. Nihilistic. Posh. But she can see why Lily likes him so much. He cares too much but doesn’t want people to know.

Clara likes how interested that he was in her time-traveling stories. Clara likes that he’s kind of mean. Clara likes how much he cares about his friends.

He somehow ends up next to her on the couch maybe three glasses of wine in. He’s laughing at shit she’s saying about how gross James and Lily are being. He’s joking right back at her.

“You know,” she giggles behind her hand as she leans into him, “when we were at brunch that time. I actually left when I was in the bathroom. Popped off to 1870 for three days.”

“Where about in 1870?”

“ _Gosh_ , how bad is it that I don’t remember.”

“Pretty bad.”

“Hey,” she looks Sirius deep in the eyes, “I’m a _very_ busy woman. Can’t expect me to remember everything about everywhere I go.”

“No,” he says, his gaze unwavering, “I can’t”

Then she’s kissing him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But, she will.

She kissed Sirius Black (she learns that he is not related to James or his mother by blood, hence the difference in surname). And it was… good.

It wasn’t nice. Sirius Black is not nice, and Clara doesn’t think that anything he’s ever done or anything he will continue to do can ever be described as nice.

Sirius Black can _kiss_ – like toe curling, eyes fluttering, hands grabbing and wanting and everything else. Clara also knows she can kiss. So naturally, when you put two good things together, it’s going to exceed expectations.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Easter is fun. Clara recounts it fondly to the Doctor, who teases her about it in a way only he can. She tells her Nan about it on the phone with a smile.

Her Nan’s no dummy; Clara can feel her thinking _I Told You So_ despite their physical distance.

Lily pesters her about it at work with smiles and laughter, as only Lily can. Clara knows that Lily and James are now in on her Nan’s and Euphemia’s little ploy to set Clara and Sirius up.

Clara’s starting to be okay with it. She just wishes they’d let it happen naturally rather than play with fate.

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius texts her first.

Well. It’s not a text, per say.

It’s a letter. Sent by an owl.

An owl that shits on her windowsill and bits her fingers.

But it’s a letter, and it's… nice.

No, not nice. But uniquely Sirius. He’s being a turd and talks about how pissed he is at James for teasing him about her. He writes about how Harry has been asking about her, hoping she’ll stop by again (she knew this because of Lily, but it still makes her smile knowing that Harry talks about her to Sirius enough for him to write it in a letter). He compliments her in his weird wizardry kind of way, and she knows he’s trying to get a ride on the TARDIS.

She laughs.

The letter ends with an apology for how he acted on his first encounter and for the terrible behavior of the owl.

And how he hopes she’ll respond.

She’s tempted to just send him a text to save herself the trouble, but the owl wont fucking leave, and she really doesn’t want to write up a lesson plan right now. So, obviously, her only option is to enter correspondence with Sirius fuckin Black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, yeah. She’s writing letters to Sirius Black.

And they’ve met up a handful of times since then too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Much to Lily’s delight, he picks her up from school – this apparating business he can do is bloody brilliant – even though it is perhaps one of the most uncomfortable things she’s willingly experienced.

He comes over to her flat – doesn’t mind that she watches _Pride and Prejudice (2005)_ when she’s sad-slash-angry-slash-happy-slash-anything really.

He was funny when he found out she drives a motorbike. Like – a good funny but she could have sworn she heard him mutter something under his breath that sounded dangerously like _I fuckin love you_ when he first saw her on it.

She’s pretty sure he was talking about the bike, but _hey_ – he’s fit, and a girl can dream.

She knows of his family, of his friends. She knows of his unwavering love and loyalty for his friends. She knows his favorite color, his favorite song, his favorite tea. She knows he’s a bartender with an inheritance that could buy a small country. Clara is aware that he’s got a boatload of issues, but she doesn’t care. Sirius is unlike anyone she’s ever met, and she loves being part of his life.

So, in return, she lets him in on what’s happened to her.

They are friendly, but they are _not_ friends – not by a long shot. Sirius Black is much too good at kissing (and _other_ _things_ for that matter) for her to just be friends with him.

Again – he’s also one of the fittest blokes she’s ever seen.

So yeah. She’s kind of not really dating Sirius Black.

It's… fun.

Clara usually doesn’t do this type of thing – usually she’s all about defining things, but like – sometimes there are no words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 It’s dusk on a nice, warm summer night. She’s on a blanket in some secluded place on the Potter’s property with Sirius. Her head rests in the crook of his arm, and he’s absentmindedly fiddling with her hair. The birds and bugs are chirping as they do, and Clara likes how their song fills the void.

It’s romantic.

Clara loves it.

She says as much. Sirius laughs.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” she laughs.

“Yeah,” he sighs, happily, “I do.”

“Sap.”

“If only James and Lily could see us now”

“They probably can. You know, _magic_ and all that.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

It’s nice.

She usually doesn’t use that word with him. Sirius is rough and frayed and vulgar. Clara usually doesn’t go for guys like this – like Sirius.

Like, sure she’ll fool around for a little bit because _why not_ , but she doesn’t go and fancy them.

But Clara’s changed.

And she’s pretty sure she loves this man.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s Halloween and she’s pretty sure she just accidentally got engaged to Sirius Black.

Clara is very, _very_ drunk, and her costume is very, very good (she’s Queen Victoria; Sirius is Alfred. They’re actually wearing their clothes.) It’s all very exciting.

James is complaining about something, and Lily’s doting on Harry (who is a _freakin_ pumpkin, and it’s the cutest thing Clara’s ever seen).

And it’s Harry that asks Sirius when he’s going to marry Clara.

Sirius looks from Harry to Clara. Clara shrugs. Sirius says something along the lines of “ _whenever our schedule opens up_.”

Then, Remus says something like “ _but do you have a ring?”_

And Sirius runs to the nearest drawer, finds what he’s looking for, and returns back, only to place a crude looking paperclip fashioned into a ring on her finger.

“ _Get on your knee!”_ shouts Lily.

“Wanna get married, Clara?” he asks with the biggest grin she’s ever seen. It’s the most unromantic thing he’s ever said.

She loves it.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

This is the happiest she’s ever been.

All in all, it’s a pretty good night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He goes out and gets an actual ring sometime that next week. It’s elegant and simplistic and so disgustingly pretty she cries.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s amazing how much changes during a year; to think of her first encounter with Sirius and to think of where they are now would have been unfathomable.

When her Nan finds out (which is as soon as she and Sirius walk in the door on Christmas), she very nearly dies. Clara hears _I told you so_ one to many times. But it’s funny.

Clara doesn’t mind.

She’s got her hand in Sirius’ the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE validate me. also follow me on tumblr: bisinatra.


End file.
